


You Saw a Sinner, Saw a Saint Inside of Me

by Ishti



Series: self-indulgent Lydia fic [2]
Category: Aveyond
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Post-Canon, implied Edward/Willette, implied Lydia/Stella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26355400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishti/pseuds/Ishti
Summary: Lydia's always wanted what Edward has. Edward doesn't want it at all.
Relationships: Edward Pendragon & Lydia Rupert
Series: self-indulgent Lydia fic [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/916602
Kudos: 2





	You Saw a Sinner, Saw a Saint Inside of Me

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics from "Half God, Half Devil" by In This Moment.

“You’ve always been awful at telling jokes, Edward.”

Ed leaned against the far wall, torchlight flickering in the polished pauldrons of his armored regalia, his back as far from the modest cell as it could be. His cousin might have been behind bars, but everyone knew what a powerful sorceress she was, staff or none.

“Not everyone thinks so, you know,” he replied. “Turns out the whole world isn’t just like the Pendragon court.”

Lydia hung back by the opposite wall, statuesque beneath a high slit of a window. She wouldn’t cling to the bars for his amusement; she wasn’t so desperate for his help that she’d debase herself in such a way. It was slight, but Edward had to squint against the beam of hazy city sunlight in order to stare her in her shaded eyes.

“Then you’ve audiences far more receptive than I,” Lydia snipped, staring down her nose at Edward. “As it happens, I only laugh for a price.”

“I’d rather marry someone who actually thinks my jokes are funny. Sorry.”

“Oh, darling. I’m afraid you won’t be spoiled for choice.”

Edward rolled his head back against the rough-hewn stone of the wall. “Even in jail, you act like you’re the Queen Bee of Sourpuss Hive.”

This wasn’t such an insult that Lydia took offense to it. When she and Edward were eight and nine, she’d watched him chase a wasp into the corner of the palace courtyard gardens, menacing it with a little toy steed. Twelve years later, he hadn’t learned much from being stung.

“If you’re not here to propose, then, why are you bothering me?” Lydia asked, maintaining her indifference with just enough disdain to keep Ed at a distance.

“Believe it or not, I actually had a better idea.”

“Mhm.” Her guise held, but Lydia’s curiosity was piqued, if apprehensive. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

Edward sighed. “If you’re going to be this nasty, I guess I could find a way to get what I want _without_ helping you get what _you_ want.”

“Oh, spit it out, why don’t you?”

“That’s what I thought. Now, listen. Before I suggest anything, I need to know I can trust you with this.”

Lydia scoffed. “Maybe you should just leave.”

“You were queen for a good minute there, right?” continued Ed. “I mean, you were. And maybe you ultimately crashed and burned because you were only worried about maintaining your image and dealing with all the coup-related drama and, I don’t know, I honestly wasn’t paying that much attention to your crap because there were a few other people trying to take over a much larger portion of the world at the time--but you kinda knew what you were doing. You wouldn’t have lasted half as long if you didn’t. So I just want to ask you this: say you were coronated all those months ago, but you didn’t come out of your disguise, so no one knew it was you. Say… you were in charge of anything you wanted. What would be your first policy?”

“My first policy.” Lydia allowed her brow to slacken. It wasn’t a difficult question; just unexpected. “I’d have cut our foreign subsidies to Gheledon to funnel our economic resources into Stormbend instead, or rather, I would have back then. Witchwood would ally with the Underworld under Gyendal’s banner, leaving Stormbend vulnerable between the witches, the coast, and Istir, whereas the orcs would pull the majority of their forces from the western front in order to defend themselves at home and the dwarves would be impacted minimally by a vampire invasion anyway.”

“And you didn’t, because…?”

“Obviously because Queen Lydia was meant to be allied with Lord Gyendal.” Lydia rolled her eyes.

Edward sniffed. “Obviously. He was going to betray Queen Lydia, y’know.”

“And she was going to betray him.”

“I can’t believe people actually _want_ this job.”

“Whatever.” Lydia folded her arms, her spindly wrists tucked away against her chest. “Did I pass your little test, Your Majesty?”

“That depends.” Edward mirrored her, his gauntlets clanking as he crossed his own arms. “Is that what you wanted to do?”

“Beg pardon?”

“Would you have… done it all that way, if you could? If you didn’t have to be Queen Lydia?”

Angling her face away from the sunlight, Lydia laughed quietly to herself. “As if someone like me could be someone like _you_ for very long.”

“As much as I hate to compliment you, you did a heck of a job being someone like me for long enough to make me obsolete.”

“I’m sure you were relieved.”

Ed stared ahead, not quite locking onto Lydia, instead losing his gaze in the illuminated motes of dust drifting in the still cell air. “Thais’ best-kept secret.”

Lydia straightened her head, hunching her shoulders ever so slightly as if to shield her neck with a high, invisible collar. She stepped forward so he could see her carefully measured expression. “Thais has few of those these days.”

“True. I think you alone have more secrets than the rest of the city combined.”

“That’s what I’m good for, I suppose.”

“You are.” Edward rocked his weight back onto his feet, striding towards Lydia to stand a foot from the edge of her cell. “You’ve always been. Do you remember when I backed into your dad’s shelf and broke those three antique busts? You covered for me.”

“I told him the maid upset the shelf during a tryst with the butler,” recalled Lydia, the corners of her lips twitching.

“Yes--Goddess, you are a truly reprehensible person when you’re being yourself.” Edward shook his head. “Don’t make me change my mind about this. Lydia, I want you to be me.”

Lydia finally burst into hearty laughter. “I’m sorry, _dearest_ cousin, but you’re about ten years of intensive skincare too late to convince anyone that we’re the same person!”

“You managed to convince everyone you were Mel,” Ed pointed out. “Although, come to think of it, her pores all but vanished on our wedding day, didn’t they?”

“Marriage does miraculous things to new brides.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “But you _can_ do it, right? You can turn into me. Face, voice, body, everything.”

For a second, Lydia considered cooling Ed’s excitement with a description of the lengthy and oft-renewed rituals necessary for even a skilled sorcerer to perform such a transfiguration. He seemed to be reaching a point, though, so instead, she said, “Yes.”

“Perfect.” Ed clapped once. “Then do it. Be me.”

“Be… you.”

“Yeah. Me. Come on, Lydia. Are you really in this cell because you wanted a lifetime supply of hoop skirts and iridescent powders? Or do you want to rule Thais?”

Lydia didn’t need him to make a cute speech to clarify her deepest truths. She knew perfectly well that her vanity and pomp were a costume tailored for the masquerade of sociopolitical advancement--a costume she enjoyed wearing, but a costume nonetheless, a silken means to an end. She knew what it meant to be royal, to govern. There were half a dozen infrastructural overhauls she could picture in her head, new neighborhoods to be zoned and constructed and painted to match her vision, and communities which required her attention whether they thought they did or not.

“I could be you,” she murmured.

“Then be me,” Edward insisted. “Be king.”

Letting her hands drop to her sides, Lydia held her cousin’s gaze and smiled. “Goddess knows I would be a better king than you.”

“Thanks.”

“And what would happen to the real you, exactly?”

Edward’s face relaxed as he recounted his plans. “I’d leave Thais and head down south. You probably don’t remember, but there’s that little farm down there that hatches rare magical beasts! I’d move in there and work with Professor Moo and Will.”

“Who’s Will?”

Color bloomed in Ed’s face. “A girl.”

“Of course.” Lydia shook her head. For the first time in heaven-only-knew how long, her shoulders danced with genuine mirth.

“You know, you’d have to marry someone, too, if you want to be king.” Ed’s eyes narrowed as a sly grin crept across his face. _“A girl.”_

Heat plucked at Lydia’s cheeks, and her giggles redoubled. “Oh, what a nightmare! Who shall I ever…?”

“Mel’s probably gonna politely decline this one.”

 _“’Politely’,_ is it?” Lydia concealed her slight disappointment with a wave of her hand. “She’d make a terrible queen anyway.”

Ed conceded with a quirk of his eyebrows. “Queen Belf it is, then,” he teased. “Or, if you play your cards right… Queen Stella?”

“Oh.” Lydia laughed a little harder. She couldn’t conjure enough barbed words to wriggle her way out of her nervous embarrassment; not this time. Blushing, she covered her mouth with a thin hand.

“Stella would be a good queen. I’m going to tell her, by the way, and she’s going to be fine with it.”

“Maybe.”

“Okay, great. I can’t stand around and talk anymore. The guards can’t spend _all_ afternoon chasing down that rampaging litter of escaped puppies.” Ed cracked his neck.

“The horror.” Lydia looked up at the narrow window; the sunshine was growing pinker, heralding a clear night for Thais. “Bring me a spare outfit when you’re ready. Wear something light; it’ll be easier for both of us.”

“As you wish, your majesty.” With a corny bow, Edward trotted off toward the dungeon stairs on his toes as if fifty pounds lighter. Lydia let out a deep breath, her tension abating for the first time since she was old enough to walk with a textbook atop her head. She would have to lose her flawless contour, but it would be fine--if anyone could make Edward Pendragon look good, it was her.


End file.
